Coorgi / Kodava wedding

 

As adults there’s a strange comfort in slipping into the memories of our childhood. Ordinary moments from the past begin to shimmer in hindsight revealing just how golden they truly were. For my brother and me, many of those cherished memories are rooted in Abu Dhabi, the city where we spent our early years. Like many Indian families in the ’90s, we were part of the Middle Eastern diaspora, born and raised under desert skies until our parents made the age-old decision to return to India for our education. But Abu Dhabi never really left us.

Each summer, we returned to Abu Dhabi, which felt like our true home. Reunions with old friends felt like picking up where we left off and the small Indian expat community welcomed us like we had never left. Those summer vacations were nothing short of a festival. Families flew in from different corners of the world. Long lunches unfolded at each other’s homes. Living rooms transformed into board game arenas. Laughter echoed through hallways, bouncing off the carpeted floors of apartments we had all grown up in.

But the true highlight was group picnics. We set off to Al Ain or Khorfakkan in massive vans.  Potluck picnics were the norm. Thermos flasks filled with hot chai, Tupperware bursting with homemade snacks. Looking back, those moments of shared culture and simplicity feel priceless.

The Return: Abu Dhabi After 15 Years

In 2023, after more than 15 years, we returned to Abu Dhabi not for a family visit but as tourists. What awaited us was a city transformed. Yas Island, once a no-go zone with oil rigs, had become a buzzing entertainment hub. Warner Bros. World, SeaWorld, and Ferrari World now stood tall symbols of the city’s leap into a new era.

And yet, not everything had changed. As we strolled through our old neighborhood, there it was: the same Baskin Robbins, tucked into the same corner of the same building across from our old apartment. It had stood the test of time - 43 years and still scooping joy. We wandered through Marina Mall which still held its charm. We picked up dry fruits from the Lebanese Roaster and dined at Golden Spoon and Bhavana. Watching my dad reconnect with the owners swapping stories of mutual friends, it felt like time had paused just for a moment.

And then there was Tahaa Cool Bar still standing. For us, it was never just a juice shop. It was a slice of our childhood. I can still picture my dad walking in after work, holding that brown paper packet with the unmistakable aroma of Kerala onion samosas wafting through the air that I would devour with glee. For my brother, it was always the pazham pori (banana fritters). It’s incredible how a single bite from a place like Tahaa can transport you decades back in time.

But change is inevitable.

Eldorado Theatre, where we watched Bollywood blockbusters on weekends was gone. So was Anand and Sharada restaurant, our go-to breakfast joint. I can still taste the hot puris and carrot-chilli dry fry and feel the cooling comfort of endless glasses of buttermilk.

The iconic volcano fountain at the Corniche once a source of awe and a must visit for every relative was no more. The old souk, once bustling with life had been replaced by a sprawling modern mall.

The Abu Dhabi Cultural Centre, once the palace of Sheikh Zayed, was under renovation. My brother and I had spent countless evenings there darting ahead to play hide and seek between the stone pillars while I trailed behind, equal parts panicked and amused. One of the guards had even become his partner-in-mischief. Now, those pillars are gone. The palace is being reimagined. But in our memories, it remains untouched.

No matter how much the city changes, the Abu Dhabi of our childhood stays with us. It lives in moments like:

• Walking across desert sands to a family friend’s house.
• Thursday visits to the old souk for fresh Indian vegetables, flown in just once a week.
• Renting VHS tapes from the local video shop, the shopkeeper saving the newest Indian releases just for us.
• Music and dance classes at the Indian Social Centre, while our mom browsed the library in blissful silence.

Yes, cities grow. Buildings rise. Familiar places fade away. But the soul of a place, the people, the rituals, the laughter stays with you.

Our 2023 visit wasn’t just a holiday. It was a reunion with the people we once were. It was a quiet thank you to the city that raised us. To the community that loved us. And to the countless memories that have shaped us.

We may no longer be those carefree kids picnicking in Khorfakkan or racing through palace pillars, but we carry those moments wherever life takes us.

Abu Dhabi gave us more than a childhood. It gave us stories worth retelling.